Edward the Artist
by rkbitch
Summary: This is a dream I had about a class trip to an Art museum where a painting by an "Anthony Masen" if discovered. For those of you who do not know…Edward's real name was Edward Anthony Masen…..I suck at summaries. (Written six years ago)


Edward the….ARTIST?

A One Shot Fan-Fic *AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a dream I had about a class trip to an Art museum where an ironic painting by an "Anthony Masen" if discovered. For those of you that don't know…Edward's real name was Edward Anthony Masen…..I suck at summaries.

*All Written in Bella's POV*

I love art, but I was not looking forward to our only class trip to be to an art museum. Edward seemed excited when the destination of our only field trip was announced, but then grew weary when he found out that we were going to see an exhibit about one of the youngest artists to ever be featured in a museum. Knowing Edward as much as I did, and seeing his automatic reaction of fear, this could not be a trip to look forward to anymore.

*THE DAY OF THE TRIP*  
I'm afraid Edward is going to back out on the trip forcing me to walk around alone. We're loading the buses and still no sign of him. Mr. Garcia, the only high school art teacher, began calling role. I began feeling nervous until he called "Edward Cullen", and he called "Present" as he climbed the stairs to the bus.

"I didn't think you were going to show up," I said as I slid over to the window so he could sit next to me.  
"You didn't think I was going to miss the one day I don't have to sit through a lecture that I've heard over sixty times, did you?" He smirked but fear held strong in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I asked him as politely as I could.  
"Fine," he answered.  
"Okay then," I wrapped my arms around his arm closest to me.

Our bus pulled away and he was unusually quiet the whole ride. We pulled into the parking lot and I understood why. The posters around the museum all said the same thing, "Washington Cultural Arts Centre Now Presents: The Works of Anthony Masen: World's Youngest Artist." As much as I knew about Edward, I knew that his name had been Edward Anthony Masen before Carlisle found him dying of Spanish Influenza. I looked at Edward with an expression of nothing but pure curiosity. He nodded his head "YES" and then I knew for sure….The world's youngest artist happened to be my boyfriend.

We all walked into the museum, got name tags, and our tour guide began the story of 'Anthony Masen' as she led us to his most famous piece of work, "The Lost Dreamer's Angel".

"He was born in Chicago, IL in 1901. He lived his life as a normal teenager until 1917," Edward obviously knew what was coming next so he grabbed my hand, "when his father was diagnosed with Spanish influenza."

I leaned against Edward's shoulder, for I was the only one that knew that HE was the one whose story was being told to all of us through someone that didn't even know that Anthony Masen was a penname so Edward would now not be revealed.  
The guide continued, "The story that leads up to the painting you are about to see is not easy to tell, nor is it easy to hear, so please, if you are fainthearted, leave the group now and go on ahead of us."

I looked at Edward's face, he seemed like he wanted to run, but he pulled me closer to him and then listened to his history that he didn't really want to face.

"Okay then, no one is leaving us? Alright, so Anthony found out about his father and he began to feel alone in the world. It's said that one night, he went to visit his father, and went home crying himself to sleep. He dreamt of an angel that whispered to him," Everything's okay," until he woke up. He remembered her face the most clearly when he woke, and so he painted her. Two weeks later, his angel came for him as he died at the age of 17 of what took his mother and father."

I pulled Edward along with me as we went to see his painting. Everyone was gasping and looking at me as they walked away from the painting, which is what I didn't understand. Edward and I walked up to the painting and I started to cry. His angel….was me. He waited until everyone had left the room but us before he told me the real story of this painting.

"The guide was right, but she missed parts that only the true artist would know. The day I met you, I remembered this painting, and I knew why you were brought to this earth. You were my angel that would make everything okay."  
I hugged him and kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Everything's ok," as we walked back to our group.


End file.
